Short Fics in my Numb3rs Universe
by IrenaAdler
Summary: Drabbles and ficlets set in my Numb3rs universe with CharlieColby and Nena, DonWill and Monster, and the rest of the gang. Only T and lower will be posted here. New, Will hears about how Charlie ruined Don's first date.
1. Mini Stakes

**Mini Stakes—**

"Charlie, I thought you said we were going golfing," Don grumbled.

"This is golfing," Charlie said brightly, stepping up to the tee.

"Anything which involves clowns and windmills is not golfing."

"Sure, it is," Charlie said, pointing to the pink ball in Don's hand. "That's a golf ball and you've got a golf club. You can practice your putting."

"Real putting doesn't involve flower pots or plastic fish."

"Scared of a challenge?"

"Wait …" Don eyed him. "You think you can beat me?"

"Absolutely," Charlie grinned. "This game is all about geometry."

"Charlie," Don said, shaking his head sadly. "You haven't beat me at sports since … well, since never."

"Hey, there was that air hockey game last month!"

"Doesn't count."

"Why not?"

"Air hockey isn't a sport, it's … a physical video game."

"Now, that's an interesting—"

"Let's just play," Don interrupted. "Then, when I beat you, I never have to come here again."

"What if I beat you?"

"Not gonna happen, Chuck."

"What _if_?"

Don laughed. "What stakes do you want?"

Charlie frowned in thought. "If I win, you and Will have to come over next time Millie wants to play cards."

"That woman," Don groaned, "Is a card shark."

Charlie nodded wearily.

Don waved his golf ball at Charlie. "_When_ I win, you and Colby have to come over next time Will wants to experiment with Indian food."

It was Charlie's turn to groan. "I think my esophagus still has scorch marks from last time."

"Drink more tea," Don said. "Is it a deal?"

Charlie looked over the geometrically-plotted landscape. It was ideal for a mathematician, not a jock. He grinned. "It's a deal."

"Okay, Chuck," Don said, putting down his ball and lining up his putter. "That plastic clown isn't gonna know what hit him."


	2. Nena Stakes

**Nena Stakes (Mini Stakes #2)—**

"Unka Don," Nena said. "You're sposta hit it _over_ thuh water."

"This is humiliating," Don grumbled at Colby who was trying – and failing – not to laugh.

"Maybe it's because she's closer to the ground," Colby smiled.

"I don't see you doing great, either," Don said sourly.

"I'm just learning the course." Colby shrugged.

"Your turn." Nena waved towards the blue ball that – for some reason Don couldn't fathom – was in a water trough.

Don crouched on the plastic grass and fished the ball out. "One stroke penalty?"

"Yeah," Colby said. "On par two."

"Par two?" Don said. "How in the world are you supposed to get over the water, around the house and up the hill in two?"

"Two, Daddy!" Nena called from the other side of the house.

Don groaned.

"It's your fault," Colby laughed, "for mentioning mini-golfing while Nena was around."

"I had to tell Millie that I wasn't going to let her fleece me on a regular basis."

"If she'd just be willing to play for candy."

"Naw, I think she takes a special thrill in taking money from government employees."

Colby nodded wryly.

Don set his ball down on the far side of the water and lined up his putter. "What we playing for again?"

"If Nena wins, we take her out for an ice cream sundae. If I win, she has to help Grandpa clean the cat hair out of the koi pond filter."

"And on the off chance I win?"

"She eats her veggies for a week without complaining."

Don flexed his shoulders, bent his knees, then gently tapped the ball. It rolled up the green, ricocheted off the house, and bounced back down the green until it rolled with a plop back into the water.

Don sighed. "I'm getting a double Hot Fudge."


	3. Will Stakes

**Will Stakes (Mini Stakes #3)—**

"_Another_ round?" Will groaned. "Don, this is ridiculous."

"Ridiculous?" Don picked up another colored golf ball. "Ridiculous is getting beat by your five-year-old niece in any game but Candyland."

Will shook his head. "It's not Nena you mind getting beat by, it's Charlie."

"Maybe," Don mumbled.

Will rolled his eyes and got another ball for himself. "One more round. Then we'll go do some real golfing."

"You say golfing's dull."

"Dull is watching you obsess for five minutes before hitting under that windmill."

"Wasn't five minutes …" Don said. "Obsess, huh?"

"Ohh yeah."

"Just one more round," Don said and set his orange ball on the rubber starting mat.

"How's this?" Will asked. "One more then we'll go over to Charlie's. Between the two of us, I bet we can trick Charlie into playing Scrabble."

Will had to laugh at the way Don perked up at that. It was a good thing the Eppes Brothers usually excelled in separate areas or else there'd be more regular bloodshed.

"Let's make a bet," Will said.

"Bets are how I got into this," Don grumbled.

"If you win, you get to smear your brother in Scrabble. If I win by more than four strokes, you have to just barely beat him."

"Dunno," Don said. "Gonna be hard to barely beat him."

Will laughed again. "Well, you'll have to try. And you _can't_ tell him that you're trying to barely beat him."

"But what if I mess up and he _wins_? I'll never live it down."

Will grinned. "If such a calamity looks imminent, I'll call you and pretend I'm the office."

"Okay," Don agreed, frowning at his ball which was rolling too slowly to make it over the plastic ramp.

Will shook his head fondly. "I'm so glad I don't have a brother."


	4. Home Repair

**Home repair—**

"Don't you want the 5/8ths hex nut?" Charlie said over Colby's shoulder.

"Nope." Colby bent awkwardly around the pipes and tightened the nut.

"But I calculated the size. For a non-rounded hexagon, the width across the corners is equal to the width across the flats over the cosign of 30 degrees and—"

"This works fine," Colby said, trying for a better angle on the pipe.

"But wouldn't you—"

"Charlie," Colby snapped. "Just go do something, okay?"

Charlie hung his head and slunk off. Colby felt bad, but he preferred to argue with the antique plumbing in peace. Besides, Charlie would probably get involved in some math and forget Colby was even here.

An hour later, Colby set his wrench down with a satisfied grunt. That should hold for now. This old house was tough to maintain and Charlie let small things become big problems. Colby thought affectionately of his absent-minded genius. He needed to go track him down, probably the garage, and apologize.

A delicious smell made Colby raise his head. Charlie stood there with a plate of cookies and a sheepish expression.

"I made chocolate chip cookies," Charlie said. "I added more chips since Amita said they needed more, though I thought my previous ratio of chips to dough was ideal."

"Those smell great," Colby said. "Sorry for snapping earlier."

"It's okay. Dad said I couldn't be within twenty feet of a wrench anyway after the furnace debacle. I just thought I could help with the right dimensions."

Colby shrugged. "When you do a lot of home projects, you develop a feel for things."

"I hate it when people say things like that," Charlie grumbled. "So-called 'feel' can be quantified, measured in a specific way—"

"Charlie," Colby laughed. "Just shut up and give me a cookie."


	5. First Sight

A/N: This takes place during my story "It Changes Everything", when Charlie and Colby are kidnapped.**  
**

**First Sight –**

Will grumbled and trailed after his colleagues. He could understand why the Feebs were unhappy that one of theirs got grabbed, but they had some balls calling in every law enforcement group in LA to find him. And apparently he hadn't been taken alone - the head of the DEA had called Will's boss to make sure the entire LA department took this as top priority. Who was this CalSci professor to have such leverage? Yeah, he was the brother of one of the Feebs' lead agents, but that didn't account for it.

When Will walked into the emergency conference room that the Feebs had set up, he revised his rating of the professor's leverage up to astounding. The room was crowded with bodies, both in and out of uniform. Several large video conference screens had been set up, and in one he recognized the LA Chief of Police, another the local CHP liaison, and in the third the District Coordinator for the NSA.

Or maybe it was just that the professor's brother, the Feeb, was a self-important bastard. Will was quite prepared to loathe him.

As Will and the rest of the DEA team filed into the room, a man stepped up to the podium. The man was wearing simple jeans and a button-down shirt, but intensity blazed from his face. The room immediately hushed. This had to be Special Agent Don Eppes.

Will stared, feeling like he'd just gotten slapped. Agent Eppes was the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen, and Will had done a lot of looking. Eppes was well built, with a perfectly shaped face with sensuous lips, and dark, strangely spiky hair. Still, that didn't explain why Will's pulse rate had suddenly shot through the roof and his whole body had focused on Eppes like a plant that had just discovered the sun. Maybe it was the man's passion, his barely-leashed energy. Maybe it was the fire practically shooting from his dark eyes.

Agent Eppes began talking and Will struggled to pry some of his attention away from Eppes's mouth to listen to what he was saying.

"Okay," Eppes said, "Everybody's here. I'm Special Agent Don Eppes, SAC with the LA FBI office. The situation is simple. Special Agent Colby Granger and Dr. Charles Eppes have been taken by members of the Russian Mob. They have delivered a ransom demand that would be impossible for us to fulfill, even if we wanted to. I believe that the kidnapping is motivated by revenge, anyway. So we have no leads and very little time. If we don't find them within the next three hours, they'll be killed. I'm not gonna let that happen. I know that most of you are here because of how important my brother is, but he's a lot more important to me than to your bosses.

"So. Colby and Charlie were grabbed from the campus of CalSci at approximately 1:30 pm. Witnesses saw them being shoved into a light-colored van by two large Caucasian males, both with short brown hair. The back of the van had no markings, but it is unknown whether the sides had markings. We don't have any more information.

"CHP has given us access to all traffic cameras. DEA will focus on getting access to all other possible cameras, from ATMs to security cameras to fast-food drive-throughs to camera phones. LAPD and CHP will track down every single light-colored van that was in the vicinity at the time. We also have permission from the local news stations to use their helicopters if it seems useful.

"NSA will comb through recent chatter to see if we can get any names or other info on these guys. The Marshals are already searching their system to see if they have any fugitive info that might be relevant. My office has been analyzing the ransom tape for clues about location, but we'd welcome expertise anyone can offer on that.

"All leads and information will go through my office. Questions?"

There were a few that were quickly sorted out. Agent Eppes's urgency had permeated the room, making everyone anxious to get to their assigned tasks.

"One last thing," Eppes said fiercely. "This is a search and rescue mission. If anyone suggests that Agent Granger and my brother are already dead, I will shoot you."

There was nervous laughter, and the crowd broke up.

"Stevens, you coming?" one of Will's team asked. Will swallowed and tore his eyes from Eppes. He hoped that they found the missing agent and professor alive, since it looked like Eppes would detonate if they didn't. And once that crisis was over …

Will would definitely be finding out more about the man who had seared his image across the backs of Will's eyes. _Please God let him be gay, and available._ If not … Well, Will would be keeping an eye out for him regardless.


	6. Watching His Back

A/N: This takes place after my story "First Sight" and during my long story "It Changes Everything," where Charlie and Colby are kidnapped.

**Watching His Back—**

It was only luck that Don Eppes was in the area when the van that had kidnapped his agent and his brother was spotted. Will Stevens was also in the area, but that was because he'd been following Don. Sure, Will had been keeping an eye out for that white van, but he was also keeping an eye on Don. He didn't want the FBI agent to do anything stupid before Will even had a chance to get to know him.

Will's radio buzzed. "Suspect van has been seen near the entrance to Angeles National Forest, right off of Little Tujunga Canyon Road. License plate confirmed. GPS coordinates—"

Will missed the coordinates because he was busy watching Don hang a U-turn in the middle of the street, driving over the concrete median in the way. Don's SUV started a belated siren as it screeched to straighten out and head in the other direction. Will's SUV wasn't equipped with a siren, but he aimed it at the median and vaulted over in Don's wake, following the path Don had blazed through panicked vehicles.

Will hung tight on Don's bumper as Don shot through the city streets. He bet that Don didn't notice anyone tailing him, a sure sign of distraction. Will had no doubt that Don was normally observant and otherwise good at his job. This brother of his was obviously extremely important to him. Or could it be the other agent? Will had a moment of completely irrational jealousy towards a man he had no reason to believe was more to Don than a co-worker.

_Angeles National Forest, _Will thought, summoning up what he knew of the area. He'd been hiking there many times, but usually farther into the mountains. Where the van had been spotted had to be just out of Lake View Terrace, or no one would have ever seen it. He reviewed in his mind the video that the kidnappers had sent, ignoring the horrific image of Charles Eppes getting shot. Yeah, that terrain could easily be right. He should have thought of it earlier. It was such an odd location, though, a wooded clearing with nothing but a grate that led down into some sort of underground storage. At least, he hoped it was storage and Charlie and Colby hadn't just gotten dumped into the sewer.

Will chewed on his lip and concentrated on keeping up with Don, who was going faster than Will ever thought would be possible on the 210 Freeway, especially at six o'clock at night.

Don shot off the Foothill Boulevard exit, and almost didn't make the sharp right turn onto the road. His car had barely recovered from that in time to make a left onto the street that would turn into Little Tujunga Canyon Road. As soon as Don hit this street, he switched off his siren. They must be getting close.

A little way up the road, Don pulled into a dirt-packed area, quickly filling up with law enforcement and emergency personnel of all types. Don leapt out of his SUV and immediately took control of the chaos. Will could only follow him and watch in admiration.

The CHP officer who'd spotted the van gave her report. The van was pulled into the parking lot of an old gas station about a quarter of a mile up the road. She'd also seen an open field with a metal grate in the middle. That made sense because gas stations often used a sort of underground concrete vault to store hazardous chemicals. Will just hoped that none of those chemicals had been there when Charlie and Colby had gotten dropped in.

Don quickly laid out an approach pattern and Will got himself assigned to the group that was going with Don around the back of the gas station. The plan was to secure the vault first, preferably without the kidnappers in the station noticing, then take out the station.

Will was distracted for a moment by the sight of Don putting on tactical gear and thigh holsters. _Oh God, that man is just Sex. Please, please, let him be gay …_ Then Will realized what he was looking at. _Damn it. _Don was only wearing a light duty assault vest and no helmet or other protective gear. That vest wouldn't stop a single bullet from the FN P90 submachine guns that the kidnappers were carrying in the video. Will got into his trunk and pulled out his heavy-duty body armor, which covered him from neck to groin. It wouldn't stop a bullet from a P90 but it would slow it down a hell of lot more. Then … _damn it, damn it, damn it!_ Will shoved the heavy armor back in and grabbed his own light-weight assault vest. There was no way he'd keep up with Don wearing the heavy stuff. He cinched a helmet on, sent a brief prayer to his ancestors – some of which he was sure had been as stupid as he was about to be – and strapped on his Five-seveN. At least if the bad guys were wearing vests, his gun would be able to penetrate their armor.

After Don slid a Glock into each thigh holster, he pulled an M4A1 out of his trunk and slung it over his back. The small rescue team gathered around him. One man had a rope draped over his shoulder. That man and the two others were wearing heavy assault protective gear. One man carried an M4 like Don. The others glanced at Don and Will's light vests but didn't say anything. Don looked at them all and nodded. Will didn't think that Don actually saw any of them, just registered their readiness, then turned towards the road.

Their team of five trotted in silence up the road, sticking to the road until they could see the driveway of an old gas station. They turned and made their way through the woods around the gas station, moving as quietly as possible with their gear.

There was enough moonlight to see the grassy field on the far side of the gas station. Set into the ground in the middle of the field was a metal grate. The same grate had been featured in the video sent by the kidnappers. Unless they were dead already, Charlie and Colby were underneath that grate.

Will could see Don literally vibrating with tension, wanting to dash out into the field. They waited for the signal from the old gas station.

A man wearing a vest and sporting a P90 casually walked out of the gas station. Will recognized by his pants that he had been in the kidnappers' video. The man headed towards the grate. Don checked his watch and swore. The kidnappers' deadline was in a few minutes and the man must be getting impatient. He strolled towards the grate with a slow but purposeful walk. He moved his P90 into firing position.

Don's cheek jumped as he gritted his teeth, staring at the man as if he could slow him by sheer willpower. The man was within range, but they couldn't take him out, not until the gas station raid had started. Doing so now would endanger everyone assaulting the gas station. Will could almost hear the debate raging in Don, as he weighed the hazards of taking action against the hazards of taking none.

The sounds of gunshots from the gas station were a welcome release. Shouts of the raid filled the quiet night and gunfire hammered inside the station.

Just then, the kidnapper in the field started shooting down into the grate. He was barely within the range of the M4 but Don aimed and fired. The gun spat twice then jammed.

Don gave an incoherent snarl of fear and rage, threw the M4 aside and yanked out one of his Glocks. The pistol had less than a third of the range of the rifle and Will was turning towards the other man who had an M4, when Don took off across the grass. He lowered his gun and just sprinted. A beat of surprise then Will took off after him, along with the other three in their team. The others were hampered by their armor and fell behind but Will was soon on Don's heels.

The man had stopped firing and was calling down into the grate. He cocked his head, as if trying to hear a response over the noise. His face twisted and he said something else then returned to shooting downwards, not even glancing up at the agents racing across the field, still too far out of range.

"Stop, stop, stop!" Don screamed.

Will wanted to scream the same, get Don to move out of the way so someone else could shoot, but he'd used up all his breath catching up to Don.

The kidnapper continued to shoot down into the grate but he finally looked up toward Don. As if it was in slow motion, Will saw the kidnapper start to raise his P90, still shooting. The bullets chewed through the grass toward them and would soon chew through Don. Will threw himself to the side, trying to get a clear line of fire. Don raised his gun and, just before the bullets reached him, pumped three bullets into the chest of the kidnapper. The man was wearing a vest, but the impact of the bullets knocked him back and the gunshots went wide. That was enough. Will's bullets slammed into the kidnapper's shooting arm, sending his gun flying, and more bullets from the team members behind them split open the kidnapper's head.

Not even stopping his forward momentum, Don dropped his gun and sprinted to the grate.

"Colby? Charlie?" Don yelled.

There was no answer and Don grabbed the grate and started to tug. Two other team members reached the grate and helped him drag it aside. Will scrambled up from the grass and checked that the kidnapper was dead.

"C'mon, c'mon," Don snapped, waving for the team member with the rope to hurry up. Others shone flashlights down into the vault. Will looked down into the hole but couldn't see either survivors or dead bodies.

The man who had the rope threw one end towards Don and tied the other around his waist. The two other team members braced him and Don took hold of the rope. Will grabbed a flashlight and shone it down to light Don's landing.

Don slithered down the rope and quietly called Colby's name. There was a grunt in response and Will directed the flashlight in that direction. He saw the back of a large man in one corner. As he watched, the man moved back and released a smaller man whom he'd been shielding.

"Don!" the smaller man cried and Don gasped and fell to his knees.

"Charlie!" Don groaned and gathered his brother into a fierce hug. Charlie held on to Don and sobbed. Tears streaked down Don's face as he held Charlie close and rocked him.

"It's okay, buddy," Don said, his voice shaking. "It's okay."

Watching Don comfort his brother, the lust and appreciation that Will had been feeling since he'd first seen Don exploded into full-blown passion. Sparks danced before his eyes.

Shocked by the intensity of the feeling, Will backed away from the hole. His hands were trembling and his heart pounding. He set his flashlight down then said, "They're okay," to the officers holding the rope. He turned to see more rescuers making their way across the field.

By the time that Charlie Eppes was pulled out of the hole, a makeshift bandage around his leg, Will had faded into the crowd of emergency personnel. By the time that Colby Granger was pulled out, the back of his shirt shredded, Will was back by the gas station. By the time that Don was pulled out of the hole, Will was running down the road toward where he'd left his car. His feet pounded against the concrete, his breath rattled short and sharp in his lungs, sweat poured down his face, and he fled as if all the Hounds of Hell were chasing him.


	7. Talking

_A/N: This takes place before "A Family Found."_

**Talking—**

"Cole?"

"Hmm?"

"Why do we never … talk about stuff?"

Colby looked over at Charlie, taking a moment before he answered. They were sitting on the bumper of Colby's car, sharing a bottle of Gatorade and some trail mix. They'd spent the morning hiking through Topanga State Park, getting here early enough to watch the sun rise. Charlie had been particularly pensive over the last hour and Colby had been waiting patiently for Charlie to work around to whatever it was that was bothering him. When it came, it was a doozy.

Colby shrugged, not pretending to misunderstand what Charlie was asking. "Maybe we're just … not rock the boat kinda guys."

"But," Charlie said, "What if that means our boat never gets out of the harbor?"

Colby smiled at the way Charlie extended his metaphor, then said, "I think we're doing okay."

"I don't want to be just okay," Charlie said heatedly. "I want to be better than okay."

"Hey," Colby said, putting his hand on Charlie's arm. "I didn't mean it that way. I think we're doing great. We came out to my entire office and just had that party where we officially came out to your friends."

"Yeah," Charlie said with a faint smile, "That was fun but …" He shifted uncomfortably. "I love you and I shouldn't be … afraid to ask you anything."

Colby touched Charlie's cheek. "There are some things in my life that are pretty scary, but we don't need to start there. How about we start small?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, ask me something."

Charlie looked at his feet for a moment. Colby wondered what Charlie was going to come up with. Charlie knew next to nothing about Colby's background – no one in LA did, and that's how Colby preferred it. But Charlie was right. Their boat was definitely stuck in the harbor. Don and Will had moved in together and gotten a cat in half the time that Colby and Charlie had been together.

"Umm," Charlie said finally, "Do you have any siblings?"

Colby smiled and nodded. "Good start. There are seven of us kids in my family."

"_Seven?_"

"Not a big family where I'm from."

"Oh."

"I've got three older sisters – Eve, Becky sorry _Rebecca_, and LeeAnn, then there's me, and then the twins – Tommy I mean _Thomas_ and Tansy, then Mike."

"Eve, Rebecca, LeeAnn, Colby, Thomas, Tansy, and Mike," Charlie repeated slowly.

"See, that wasn't too bad."

"No, but it was hardly—"

"It was a good start," Colby repeated. "It wasn't too scary to ask or answer."

Charlie shook his head, smiling.

Colby could see more questions in Charlie's eyes, but he took a deep breath and stood up. "Now, do we want to break out the sandwiches now or do we have another trail in us before lunch?"

Charlie accepted the end of the conversation, for now, and stood up himself. "How about we take the sandwiches with us and eat lunch wherever we are in an hour?"

"Sounds good," Colby said and opened the cooler. He packed his backpack full, but felt lighter himself. He'd worried that Charlie just didn't want to know about his uncertain past, and Colby was prepared to pretend his life had started when he had moved to LA. Certainly, coming to LA had been a whole new chapter in his life, and a good one. But maybe he and Charlie could make progress in small steps and then maybe, just maybe, Colby could eventually feel like he could share all of himself with his sheltered young lover.

He shifted the backpack onto his back and smiled over at Charlie. "Santa Inez Trail?"

"Yeah," Charlie said, then grinned. "You carry those supplies, and I'll carry the other ones."

"What—" Colby started to ask then laughed when Charlie patted his back pocket where Charlie now regularly kept a condom.

"Hmm," Colby said, slinging his arm around Charlie's slim shoulders. "Something makes me think we won't be bringing back either my supplies or yours."

"Nope," Charlie said, the concern lines gone from his face. "Talking is hungry work."


	8. Talking 2: A Question A Day

_A/N: This is a sequel to Talking._

**A Question a Day –**

A question a day, Colby and Charlie agreed. One question and they could feel like they were making progress without forcing Colby to sit down and spill his entire life history. There were no restrictions on the question, but they both knew it would be more than "What's your favorite kind of ice cream?"

At first Charlie would put off asking, but it would spoil their night, not knowing. So Charlie began asking his question the first time he saw Colby that day. Every day then had a small piece of tension, a moment of fear – would this be the question that opened Pandora's Box? When it wasn't, they'd breathe a sigh of relief and the rest of the evening would be safe.

Monday:

"Where do your siblings live now?"

"Eve is married and lives in Idaho. Rebecca, married, Idaho. LeeAnn, single, Connecticut. Thomas, married, Las Vegas. Tansy, I guess you could say she's attached and travels. Mike, single, Wake Forest."

Tuesday:

"Have any nieces or nephews?"

"Six, so far. Eve has four boys and Rebecca has a boy and a girl."

Wednesday:

"Where did you go to college?"

"Penn State. Big wrestling school."

Thursday:

"When did you join the Army?"

"Third year of college. I decided to quit wrestling and needed a way to pay for school."

Friday:

"Where did you learn Spanish?"

"Started in high school and got a Minor in it at college. I used it in the Army a lot."

Saturday:

"When did you go into CID?"

"A year after I graduated with a degree in Criminal Justice, two years after I joined the Army."

Sunday:

"Where do your parents live?"

"My mom is still in Winchester. My dad is dead. He killed himself when I was fifteen. I was there."

And the box was opened.


	9. Talking 3: Reaction

_A/N: This is a sequel to Talking and A Question A Day._

**Reaction—**

So now Charlie knew at least one of Colby's dark secrets. How would he react? Charlie's life was so sheltered, his family so perfect … How could he even imagine seeing one of his parents commit suicide?

Colby waited nervously and watched Charlie's face. Charlie was frowning, rubbing his thumb absently over the back of Colby's hand, which he'd been holding when he asked his daily question. They sat on the couch in the solarium and it was a bright sunny afternoon, the world looking fresh and green outside the windows.

"Is it okay if I ask another question?" Charlie said quietly.

Colby nodded. He'd expected this – discomfort, uncertainty, more questions.

"Why?" asked Charlie.

Colby grimaced. "Are you sure you want to know?"

Charlie's eyes met his and Colby was surprised at the depth of compassion he saw there.

"Do you remember when I first told you that I loved you?" Charlie said softly. "I said that I was greedy, that I wanted all of you – the good, the bad, and the messy. I meant it. We've both been sort of avoiding the bad and messy because the good has been so … good." He linked his fingers through Colby's. "I want to know, because you need me to know, and what you need, I need, whatever that is."

Colby took a deep breath. He should know better than to underestimate Charlie by now. He plunged in. "When I was thirteen, my parents got a divorce. It was an ugly divorce, very ugly. They had fought for a long time before the divorce. Everything was made worse by the very conservative church my family was part of, divorces just didn't happen."

"Mormon?" Charlie asked.

"No, but an offshoot of it. So, when the divorce finally went through, my parents made all of us kids stand up in court and say which parent we wanted to live with. They even made Mike do it, even though he was only six. We all stood up and … I chose my dad, because I knew no one else would."

Colby looked down at Charlie's fingers laced through his. "My mom has never really forgiven me for that, but I couldn't just let my dad have nobody."

Charlie nodded silently and Colby continued, "My dad was a good guy, but losing the family hit him really hard. He quit the church, and church is pretty much the whole social organization in our town, so he was really isolated. I was just a kid and caught up in my own things. I was on the wrestling team and I had my own friends and …"

He shrugged uncomfortably and met Charlie's eyes, which were soft and encouraging.

"My dad started drinking, drinking heavily." Colby said. "At first I'm sure it was kind of a statement, since the church didn't allow drinking, but it got away from him fast. A few days after my fifteenth birthday, my dad was driving drunk and he got in an accident that killed a mother and her baby. My dad walked away without a scratch.

"I remember him coming home, telling me what had happened, and very matter-of-factly getting out a hunting rifle and blowing his brains out."

Colby's eyes squeezed shut. The image of his father's head splashed across the kitchen wall was still as bright and vivid as it had been in that moment. He could still smell the blood and gunpowder, hear the sudden quiet in the world around him, as if even the birds had been shocked into silence, then the clunk as the spent rifle fell from his dead father's hand.

He slowly realized that Charlie was gripping his hand in between both of his.

"I don't remember anything after that. They say I calmly called 911 and waited on the porch for the police to arrive. I directed them to the kitchen then answered all their questions in an even voice. They took me down to the police station where my mom picked me up and took me back to the home I'd grown up in, like nothing had changed. They sent me to therapy and I went back to school and wrestling."

He finally opened his eyes and found Charlie kneeling on the floor in front of him, holding tightly onto Colby's hand, his eyes wide and glistening with tears.

Colby said distantly, "All of this, everything after my dad killed himself, people told me about. To this day, I don't remember the next six months of my life. It was like I woke up six months later to find a robot had been living my life for me while I was gone." He slowly shook his head. "And when I woke up, I was angry, so angry. I spent the next two years terrorizing my brothers and sisters and making my mother cry. Everyone, including me, was relieved when I got that wrestling scholarship and moved 2,500 miles away. It's a cliché, but I found myself at college. It was there I figured out I wanted to be in law enforcement. I loved school, loved wrestling until this new coach came along that I hated. I didn't let my family know how I was doing for over a year after I got to college, then it was just a short Christmas card."

Colby fell silent and looked down at Charlie. Charlie's lashes were wet, his face pale.

"And now?" Charlie whispered.

"And now … I call my mom sometimes, probably three times a year plus Christmas and Mother's Day. I exchange Christmas cards with all my siblings but Tansy, because she doesn't really have a regular address. I send birthday presents to my nephews and niece, though I've never met them."

"Never met them?"

"Nope. Haven't been back to Winchester since I left for college, over fifteen years ago."

"Wow," Charlie said. "That's a long time."

"Yeah." Colby said, then they both fell silent. Colby's throat ached and his eyes burned and he wanted nothing more in the world than to pull Charlie into his arms and bury his tears in those soft curls … but he couldn't. He said quietly, "I could have stopped him. I was big, even at fifteen, and could have taken him down before he pulled that trigger." 

"Colby …" Charlie said, his voice tight.

"God, I could have stopped him, but maybe I didn't want to." The tears he'd held back finally leaked down his cheeks. "Maybe I just thought he was a drunk bastard who deserved to die, so I let him pull the trigger."

"No, no," Charlie said earnestly. "You'd never do that. You were just a kid."

Colby glared at Charlie, suddenly angry. "Just fifteen," he snapped. "When you were fifteen, you were in some sort of elite college program, a math god and a certified fucking genius."

Charlie's eyes widened. "I had a family who supported me, didn't rip me apart."

"Sorry," Colby groaned, jerking away from Charlie and burying his head in his hands.

He heard Charlie get up and sit back next to him on the couch. He felt Charlie's arms around him, surprisingly strong.

"Colby, Cole, My Colby," Charlie murmured. "There isn't one evil atom in your body --I've checked. Even at fifteen, there is no way that you would have let your father die if there was any way you could stop it."

Colby lifted his head. "How do you—"

"I know," Charlie said, his voice throbbing with absolute certainty. He pulled Colby toward him until Colby curled into his arms. "In any quantum space – Euclidean, sequence, Lebesgue, or Hilbert – you are one of the good guys."

"Charlie … I've done things, other things …"

"Shh," Charlie said, running his hands soothingly over Colby's hair. "You don't need to tell me now."

"But …"

"Shh," Charlie said again. "I love you and … Well, I guess that pretty much covers it."

Colby startled himself with a faint chuckle. "No more math analogies?"

"I could come up with one if you want," Charlie said with a smile. "Something involving infinite-dimensional topological vector spaces, perhaps?"

"That would have been my choice," Colby said dryly.

Colby lay his head down in Charlie's lap and looked up at him. Charlie ran his fingers over Colby's face, in a touch both intimate and casual. So the Pandora's Box of Colby's past had been opened and nothing terrible had happened. They should both find some relief in that, and maybe that question-a-day would become less stressful, more fun, though Colby hoped that there were some questions Charlie never asked him.

Colby knew he should stop trying to shelter Charlie, but the need to protect Charlie was something he was always going to be fighting. Even when it was Colby he was trying to protect Charlie from.

"One of these days," Charlie said softly, "Maybe we'll take a road trip to Idaho."

Colby grimaced. There were so many problems with that, not the least of which was taking his gay lover back to meet his ultra-conservative family that still believed their missing son was heterosexual. Still, looking up into those big, brown eyes and that earnest, open face that he loved so much, he couldn't completely shoot down the idea.

"Maybe, Charlie," Colby said at last. "One of these days."


	10. Matching

_A/N: This one takes place quite a while after most of the rest of my stories in this series._

**Matching--**

Don grimaced and closed his eyes.

Beside him, Will laughed. "You've been shot, stabbed, ripped, beaten up and god knows what else and you're afraid of a little pinprick?"

"It's not the same," Don grumbled. "I know it's coming and this one's supposed to be permanent."

"Oh-ho," Will said. "So it's the commitment that scares you."

"No!" Don opened his eyes. "It's not that, it's – Ow!"

Don glared up at Will as the burly man holding the instrument leaned back. Will smiled down at him unapologetically.

"One down," the man said.

Don rubbed the sore spot, which just made it sorer. "Can't we just stick with one? That's traditional."

"Only if you're living in the 1970s," Will said. "I like to think we're a little more modern than that."

"I liked the 1970s," Don said petulantly. "Lots of good music."

"Eppes," Will teased. "You're embarrassing the whole Bureau."

"The whole Bureau isn't here, Stevens."

"Okay," Will laughed. "You're embarrassing me."

"You're the one who wanted to come to this place instead of a nice shiny mall," Don griped.

"They know how to do it right, here," Will said, looking at the man behind Don.

The burly man grunted in acknowledgement and got ready for another attack.

"And how would you know that?" Don said, trying to distract himself. "I don't recall seeing any evidence that you've been here before, and I've looked thoroughly."

"Things heal," Will said blithely and Don made a mental note to ask him more about that later.

The burly man took advantage of Don's distraction for his second strike. Don let out a completely un-masculine yelp and Will laughed. The burly man made a guttural noise that could have been a laugh, handed Don a mirror, and gathered up his instruments.

Don looked in the mirror and turned his head from side to side, examining his new look. Now set in each of his still throbbing earlobes was a small perfect diamond.

They were one carat diamond stud earrings, mounted in platinum. Will and Don could afford bigger diamonds but they needed to be able to justify the diamonds in any undercover disguise and the two and a half thousand dollars each pair of these cost was quite enough.

Will leaned down so that he could look in the mirror with Don. Matching earrings sparkled in Will's ears. The jubilant grin on Will's face banished any resentment that Don had for the pain in his ears. Will's arms slid around Don's shoulders and Don gripped Will's hands in his own.

Don felt his chest tighten with emotion. He was marked now, branded as belonging to Will and Will to him. It meant more than the engagement ring that Don had given Kim. This was more permanent, more lasting. Just like his love for Will. He felt happy and scared and excited and … just really, really happy

"Hmm," Will said, rubbing his cheek against Don's hair. "I feel like we should be heading from here to a Honeymoon Suite."

"You mean we're not?" Don said, still examining his new earrings. "I thought I was gonna get a reward for all this pain."

"Oh, you'll get a reward," Will murmured in his ear. "I have some Champagne chilling at home."

"Really?" Don smiled. "When did you set that up?"

Will's voice dropped ever deeper, so Don felt it more than heard it. "Have you ever licked cold Champagne off of warm skin? Tasted Champagne goose bumps?"

Don's eyes widened and he quickly set down the mirror and got out of the metal chair. "Where's that limo?"


	11. Miss Me?

"**Miss me?"**

Don rubbed his face tiredly and looked up at the white board plastered with notes and photos. This particular case had felt like it had dragged on forever. And it wasn't even an interesting case. They knew who had done the embezzlement, they had the evidence. The suspect was just an expert lawyer and had thrown hundreds of legal blocks in their way. Soon, he hoped fervently, they'd be able to pass it off to the legal department and go on to a nice, pleasant murder.

With a sigh, Colby pinned another piece of paper to the board, representing the suspect's latest tactic. David grumbled and Megan said something under her breath about wasting her time with psychology training when she should have gotten her law degree.

Don's cell phone beeped and he reached for it reluctantly. It was probably just another text message from the legal experts trying to help him with this annoying case. Instead, it was something which set his heart pounding.

_Case done. In elevator. W_

Don jumped to his feet and set the chair skidding, startling the other three. Before the chair had even stopped sliding, he was halfway across the office.

"What is it?" Megan called, alarmed.

Don got to the elevator, David, Colby and Megan on his heels. He turned and grinned at him.

"Oh," Megan laughed. "I recognize that look."

David said, "What? What?"

Colby smiled. "Looks just like a wife waiting at the airport for her soldier."

"Ah," David said in comprehension.

Don stared at the lights on the elevators, trying to figure out which elevator was coming up. Will had been gone for less than a week but Will himself had admitted to a bad feeling about this case. In it, he had to pass himself off as a drug-runner with ties to Nicaragua. Will's Spanish was excellent but it was the kind of Spanish spoken in the U.S. or Mexico, not Nicaragua. He had to convince some extremely dangerous people to believe in him enough to tell him how they were smuggling drugs into LA. Will was completely incommunicado when he was undercover and Don had spent a week of restless nights, troubled by vivid dreams of Will in danger, Will in pain, Will dying. Don hadn't even had a tough work case to distract him.

The left elevator dinged and Don jumped in front of it. The doors opened but no Will. Two surprised women got out and Don leaned into elevator to check that Will wasn't hiding to one side. He pulled his head back as the doors started to shut.

He glared at the other elevator which seemed to be going down.

"Hey," said a warm familiar voice from the stairway door.

Don turned and there was Will, alive, whole, and grinning at him.

"Will!" Don said and with three steps grabbed Will in a hard hug.

"Couldn't wait for the elevator," Will laughed and hugged him back.

"Will," Don said again, the terrible tension easing out of him.

"Miss me?" Will asked, his grin widening.

In answer, Don grabbed Will's face and smashed his lips to Will's. His tongue met Will's tongue coming the other way and they kissed hungrily. Despite Will's casual demeanor, Don could feel the need in Will's kiss and in the grip of his hands on Don's upper arms.

Finally, Don pulled back … to a chorus of cheers and whistles from his entire department. Don looked around and remembered where they were. The only other times that Will had come up to his office, it had been on a professional basis. Don felt the blush that Will seemed to induce rise into his face and the hoots and whistles grew even louder.

"Umm," Don said, his face hot. "You guys got things here?"

"Go, go!" Megan laughed.

"We'll let you know if anything breaks," David promised.

"We'll try not to call you," Colby grinned.

"Thanks, guys," Will said and turned the handle of the door behind him.

"See you tomorrow," Don said with what he was sure was a totally goofy grin on his face.

Will pushed open the door and backed into the stairwell, pulling Don after him and letting the door swing shut. It was a while before they even started down the stairs.


	12. Trim

**Trim—**

"I don't want you to cut it!" Don said stubbornly.

"Don," Will grumbled. "Be reasonable. It's just a trim to get rid of split ends."

"Yeah, that's what you say, then they end up cutting one side too much and have to even up the other side then back again and before you know it, you've got a crew cut."

"I had a crew cut when I was a teenager."

"See!" Don said. "You've demonstrated that your judgment in regards to your hair isn't always correct."

"I was a teenager," Will laughed. "My judgment in regards to anything usually wasn't correct."

"And who is this hairdresser anyway? Is he any good?"

"He's been cutting my hair for years."

"Maybe I better do a background check on him."

"Don!" Will said, laughing but firm. "No background checks. You can come and keep an eye on the process if you want."

"You bet I will."

"Leave your gun at home," Will warned.

Don came and watched as Will got into the chair and pieces of dark silky hair began to fall to the floor. Then Will had to banish Don from the salon because Don's glare was making the hairdresser's hands shake.


	13. Smile

**Smile—**

The first time Will saw Don smile his heart skipped a beat. Will told his heart that was terribly cliché, but Will's heart had never listened to sense. Don and Will were sitting in Will's bedroom, Don swathed with bandages, watching a hockey game. After finding out Don was a Bruins fan, Will joked about the team's recent play. Don smiled and responded, but Will had no idea what Don said. All he could think about was how the smile transformed Don's face, making him look younger, less hardened by life.

The first time Don gifted Will with one of his full-wattage smiles, Will's heart skipped several beats then kicked into a thundering rhythm. It was the same evening and Don was telling him about how, years ago, he'd tried to make pancakes for his mother's birthday. He'd started a fire in the kitchen, but instead of putting it out himself, he'd calmly called 911, bringing down on the house a platoon of firetrucks, police and ambulances. Will said he bet Don's mother had reminded him about that 'present' for years. Don replied that she couldn't forget because Don was always wearing the LAFD cap that the firefighters had given him. Don's grin at that memory lit up the entire room, leaving Will blinking spots from his eyes. The rest of the evening, Will used every trick he knew to get a return of that smile.

Every time Don smiled now Will's heart still fluttered, against all rationality, no matter how familiar the sight. One of Don's smiles could buffer him against his mother's barbs or warm him through tense nights of undercover work.

It was impossible to explain to Don what his smiles meant, so Will didn't try. He just did what he could to keep the smiles coming.


	14. Falling

**Falling—**

They were falling. Charlie's net had broken, the numbers fraying apart. There was a flaw in his equations and he couldn't reweave it fast enough and they were falling.

Don's face was pale, his mouth a round 'O', reaching out but the numbers fled from his hands.

Colby screamed silently, his eyes wide, his fingers grasping. Remains of the net fell around him, tatters of Charlie's flawed work, too weak to hold.

Only enough numbers for one more equation, and Charlie wove them into a rope and tossed it. Don caught the rope and held on. Colby fell, fell into darkness, his face white with terror.

Charlie woke up sobbing, and Colby's arms were instantly around him.

"I'm sorry," Charlie sobbed. "I'm sorry."

"Shh," Colby soothed. "It was just a dream."

Charlie turned his face to Colby's shoulder. "There was only one rope," he sobbed. "My numbers were bad and you and Don were falling."

"Shh," Colby whispered, rocking him.

"I chose Don," Charlie said with a moan, "I had to choose and I chose Don. There was only one rope. You _fell_."

"I understand, angel. He's your brother. But I promise," Colby said firmly. "We'll never make you chose."


	15. Angel, Cole

**Angel—**

Colby wasn't sure where his nickname for Charlie came from. He knew that 'Angel' was an absurd thing for one grown man to be calling another. Still, it felt so natural.

Maybe it was the way that the sun shone through Charlie's curls. Maybe it was Charlie's inherent sweetness. Yes, he could be snarky and petty, smug and sulky, but underneath was the sweetness. Maybe it was his naivety, his lack of connection to the real world, the world that Colby was all too familiar with.

Colby had first thought of the term when he'd come to a crime scene and Charlie had been already there, his clipboard out, his intense eyes taking in every statistical detail. Charlie had been wearing a tan T-shirt and faded jeans, and his slight figure had stood out in the midst of the big, dark-clad FBI agents. Colby, feeling whimsical, had thought, _An angel among the devils._

He'd first used the term to Charlie himself when they were kidnapped, when they'd been hurt and tired and anxious. Charlie hadn't seemed to mind and Colby happily continued to use it, until, to his utter embarrassment, he sometimes used it in public. Charlie would just laugh at Colby's blush. Unless it was around Charlie's colleagues, then Charlie would be blushing too.

Maybe it was just that Colby needed something special to call Charlie, even when he was only using it in his thoughts. Colby had known Charlie was special from the moment he saw him. At first it was just that his brain was amazing and his enthusiasm infectious. Then it was that he was attractive and fascinating. Ultimately, it was that he was Colby's missing piece, his complement. He was necessary to Colby's existence.

If that didn't explain why Charlie was his angel, nothing would.

* * *

**Cole—**

Charlie wasn't sure why he didn't mind Colby calling him 'Angel.' It seemed like something that should bother him, since he normally resented effeminate terms, such as pretty, sweet, or when David called him 'beautiful.' His own nickname for Colby was rather prosaic – 'Cole,' a simple shortening of his given name. Still, no one else called him 'Cole,' so it was something special to Charlie.

Colby seemed more embarrassed by 'Angel' than Charlie did, at least when he mistakenly used it in public. This big, macho, ex-Army FBI agent calling another man 'Angel' did seem absurd. But it wasn't.

Maybe it was because the first time Colby had called Charlie that had been under such strange circumstances. He and Colby had been kidnapped, injured and thrown into a hole. They'd huddled together for warmth and Charlie had fallen asleep. When he'd awoken, he had looked up into Colby's face and seen a pure, unguarded tenderness there, so strong it had taken Charlie's breath away. Startled, he'd spoken Colby's name, and Colby had said, "Hello, Angel." And, in those two words, had also said, 'I love you.' Charlie was so thrown that it had taken him an hour to get up the nerve to ask Colby why he had called him that. Then needed more nerve to drag from the tired, injured Colby the admission that he did indeed love Charlie. Charlie's life had changed in that moment, though he wouldn't realize it for months.

Now Colby called him that all the time, and every time he said it, Colby was saying, 'I love you, I need you. You're quirky but wonderful. You are my sunlight, my joy, yin to my yang. I will always be there for you.'

It's awfully hard to resent a nickname that could say all that.


	16. A Conversation with Silence

**A Conversation with Silence--**

Don brushed the leaves from the stone headstone and crouched down.

"Hi, mom," he said quietly, the atmosphere of the cemetery weighing on him. "Sorry that it's been a while. I've been busy." He snorted. "Not like that's new." He took the wilted flowers out of the vase next to the headstone and tossed them aside. He put some water and three roses into the vase – one red, one white, one pink. She had loved roses.

It was only at the cemetery that Don felt his mother near. Charlie, lucky Charlie, had her visit in his dreams. Even his dad talked to her in dreams. Don dreamed about her, yes, but she was always in the next room, around the corner, just out of reach. _A lot like real life_, Don thought, then chided himself for the thought.

Taking a breath, Don brushed off his hands. "I've met someone, mom. Someone that's really important to me and that I want to spend the rest of my life with.

"But the problem is—not really the problem, but the issue … I mean … It's a man, mom. Will Stevens. Dad said that you wouldn't be surprised, but I'm sure you expected me to settle down with a woman, raise a family. There won't be kids, Will and I are agreed on that. With our jobs, it just wouldn't be fair to a child. Thank God for Nena. I'm sure you know who Nena is, you probably visit her in her dreams, too."

Don swallowed and rubbed his face. It was amazing how the old resentments would overwhelm him. He could easily believe that his mom would visit her surrogate grandchild before she would visit him.

Trying to push away the bitterness, Don continued, "I'm really happy with him. We live together and he just …" _Makes me feel like I'm special, too,_ Don thought to himself but couldn't say it out loud. It would sound too much like an accusation.

"Dad's coping okay, I think," Don said instead. "I'm sure he'd love a daughter-in-law, instead of two more men in the family. I bet he's worried that Nena's gonna grow up to be a tomboy. She does like to wear dresses and play with dolls, though her dolls are usually Feds chasing bad guys.

"Oh, Will's a Fed, too. DEA, in fact. I met him, kinda, when Charlie and Colby were kidnapped. I'm sure Charlie's told you about that. Will has an even more dangerous job than I do, but I try not to think about that too much. Makes me understand better what you and Dad felt like, feel like. Will's already saved my life a couple of times, though maybe I shouldn't have told you that."

Don cleared his throat, feeling like he always did when he'd called home from Albuquerque. How much did they really want to know? "Will … he keeps me safe. He makes me feel safe and at peace and just … good. I know you're disappointed, Mom, but I hope you can be happy for me, too.

Forcing a smile onto his face, Don said, "I'm actually seeing a shrink now, can you believe it? Not because of Will, but because of some work stuff and some … life stuff. No big deal." Those last three words had been spoken often over the phone to his mother as Don went through the various phases of his FBI career. He didn't know how much she believed those words, then or now.

"Well, I gotta go," Don said, though he had planned on staying longer. "I'll try not to be as long 'til the next time. I'll, umm, I'll bring Will. You'd like him, mom. He has the same sense of humor that I do and that you always said that you had, too. He's a lot of fun."

Don got to his feet and looked down at the grave. He knew he'd failed his parents on being the normal one. He could only hope they forgave him. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked away.


	17. Breaking the Silence

**Breaking the Silence—**

Will was putting the finishing touch on his pan-roasted rosemary chicken when he heard the door open and the familiar clunk of Don putting down his stuff on the side table.

"Hey, babe," Will called. "Perfect timing!"

Will moved the pan to the counter and stirred the carrots before he realized that he hadn't gotten an answer. He set down the spoon and went to the front room. Don was just standing by the closed door, staring at the FBI badge in his hand.

"Bad day at work?" Will asked.

Don didn't respond and Will moved closer. He put his hand over Don's, covering the badge and breaking Don's gaze.

"Bad day at work?" Will repeated.

"Hmm?" Don said distantly. "Oh, not really."

"Then what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Don said, dropping his badge onto the table. "Dinner smells good." He pulled away from Will and walked into the kitchen. Will could have stopped him, but Don seemed … fragile.

Will decided not to push, for the moment, and followed Don. He served up dinner and they ate and talked about nothing in particular. Don's eyes still seemed somewhat unfocused and he didn't comment on the food. Don didn't always praise Will's cooking, but he always discussed it, which Will greatly appreciated. Some of Will's best dishes came from Don's thorough evaluation of the meal that Will put in front of him.

When Don was finished eating – or at least he had stopped putting food into his mouth and just pushed it around on the plate, Will stood up. He took the plate away from Don and put it with the dirty dishes in the sink. He grasped Don's hand and pulled him up from his chair. He walked into the front room and Don followed docily, which alarmed Will even more. He sat Don on the couch and sat down next to him.

Will took Don's chin in his hand and turned Don's face towards him. "_Aein_?" he asked quietly. "Ready to tell me what's wrong?"

"Went to my mom's grave today," Don murmured, his eyes resting somewhere around Will's collar.

"Oh," Will said. "I see." That would certainly be depressing. Alan had been bugging Don that he never went there.

"I told her about you," Don continued. "That we were together."

Will's forehead furrowed. "And?"

Don finally met his eyes and Will's breath caught at the despair there.

"I'd forgotten," Don whispered. "I've been so happy with you that I'd forgot what I'm supposed to be."

"Which is?"

"I was supposed to have the wife and the house in the suburbs and the kids and the dog."

"Says who?" Will snapped.

"My parents. I was the one who was gonna have a normal life, give them grandkids, be the anchor while Charlie went off and was great."

Will gritted his teeth. "They said that?"

"Pretty much."

"Pretty much?" Will shot back. "Or is this just what you think they said?"

"It was accepted that Charlie wasn't gonna have a normal life. He was going to the stratosphere. All those things that they wanted – grandchildren, adult children living nearby, a daughter-in-law – it was my job to provide them, and I've failed."

Out of sight of Don, Will clenched his hand into a fist and struggled to control his anger. His own problems with this issue threatened to overwhelm him. When he could be sure of his voice, he said, "You haven't failed anyone. Didn't your dad talk about a dream where your mother said how proud she was of you?"

"A dream," Don said, his eyes growing distant again. "I never dream about her. Charlie does and Dad does. I wouldn't be surprised if Nena does."

"You don't?"

"Never."

"Look," Will said, the effort of keeping calm making his voice flat. "Your parents are happy that you're happy. Your dad feels like that, I have no doubt. I can't see your mom being any different, from what I've heard about her."

"Still," Don said. "I know Dad is disappointed that I'm not gonna have kids. He's always pushed that. Mom was so excited when I got engaged to Kim. She didn't understand why I didn't try to get Kim to come to LA, too. So, yeah, while they might be glad I'm happy, they're still disappointed."

With a wordless snarl, Will jumped to his feet. He strode across the floor and then back, until he stood in front of a surprised Don. "Dammit, Don, you're so lucky, you have no idea! You think _you're_ a disappointment to your parents?"

Don's face softened and he looked ashamed. "I know things were a lot worse for you."

The anger drained out of Will and he sank to his knees on the floor and took Don's hands in his. "I'm sorry, it wasn't supposed to be a contest. It's just … I know exactly what my mother thinks of my life. I'm the oldest and the only son of an Asian family. _I_ was supposed have the steady job, the little wife, the two-point-one kids. But as it is, I'm a total pariah to everyone in my mother's family. And my father? He assumed that I'd be a doctor. What better job is there to provide for one's family? Instead, I have the world's worst job in terms of pay and stability. When it comes to my parents, I'm a fuck-up from top to bottom."

"No," Don protested.

"But you?" Will continued as if Don hadn't spoken. "Your family is proud of you, I know they are. And those other things you were 'supposed to' provide? Your dad has his grandchild with Nena, and you are around all the time, so he can't complain about that. And, _aein_," he added softly, "You _are_ Charlie's anchor, always have been. You're a great son anda great brother."

Will then surprised both of them with a sideways smile. "Charlie has Colby now, too, but the more anchors that boy has, the better."

"Yeah," Don said with a faint answering smile.

Will moved back onto the couch and put his hand on Don's thigh. He paused for a moment, watching his fingers run lightly over the denim. Don had given him the opening that Will had been waiting for for a while. He met Don's eyes. "Maybe your mom hasn't visited you in your dreams because you're still angry at her."

Don looked away. "I'm not angry at her."

"You're angry at her for spending more time with Charlie than with you. You're angry that she seemed to love Charlie more than you. You're angry at her for getting sick and forcing you to come back to LA. You're angry at her for dying."

Don's mouth twitched.

"It's okay to be angry at her," Will said softly.

"No … it's not."

"If you don't admit that you're angry at her, you'll never get over it."

Don rolled his eyes. "That sounds like something Dr. Bradford would say. Why do I bother to go to a shrink when I've got you?"

"So you can complain about me," Will said promptly.

Don snorted softly. He reached up and touched Will's cheek. "How can I be angry with my mom when people have moms like you do?"

Will shook his head. "It's not a competition. Your feelings don't have to match up to some sort of scale."

"No?" Don said wryly.

"No."

"Hmm," Don said, unconvinced. He moved away from Will, but only far enough so that he could lay down and rest his head in Will's lap.

Will stroked the familiar shape of Don's face. Will studied Don's expression and decided to drop the issue of his mom, for now. _But as for the rest of it …_ Will tapped his finger on Don's cheek. "You, Don Eppes, are just as special as your brother. Even more so, in my biased opinion. Charlie's specialness is just … flashier."

"Your very biased opinion," Don said, his eyes wistful, as if he wished he could believe Will.

"Doesn't mean it's not true," Will responded.

"Hmm," Don said again, but the lines of despair were fading from his face and he was focused on Will instead of the distant image of his supposed failures.

"You know," Will said with a smile. "Your dad should be grateful he doesn't have any daughters-in-law. I have three sisters. I know."

Don smiled back. "The fewer women around, the better?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Will grinned. "But female family members can be very trying."

"So can male ones."

"True," Will said. He picked up Don's left hand and began to kiss his fingers. "Do you need me to demonstrate, once again," he asked between kisses, "Just how special I think you are?"

Don smiled, the last of the shadows leaving his eyes. "I wouldn't mind."

"Neither would I," Will said, his thumb rubbing the pulse at Don's wrist. "You've got to be special, you know – do you think I'd fall in love with just anyone?"

Don reached his free hand up to tangle in Will's hair. "Maybe you make me special."

Will shook his head. "I think the reverse is true."

"Are we gonna have to fight about this?" Don asked, raising his head, while tugging on Will's hair and pulling his face downwards.

"Oh, yeah," Will said and their lips met.


	18. Return Stakes

_A/N: __Wrap-up to the mini-series of Mini Stakes, Nena Stakes and Will Stakes. __H__appy birthday to Don!_

**Return Stakes—**

"You sure you want another humiliation?" Charlie asked, picking up his mini-golf club.

"Not gonna happen," Don said, grabbing his own club.

"After nearly losing at Scrabble last week, you should be more cautious."

"I was distracted!"

"Lucky for you that work called," Charlie said. "You gonna get another convenient phone call if I'm winning today?"

Don snatched one of the colored balls from Charlie's hand. "Bet you a month's worth of buying beer for the house that I don't need any phone call."

"Make it two months. That'll help my grocery bill."

Don grinned. "Bring it on, Math Boy."

* * *

Later, over beers at home, Charlie claimed that he'd let Don win because it was his birthday.

"Good try, Chuck," Don laughed.

"My ball was doing things counter to physics."

"I beat you fair and square."

"I should get Larry out to the course. There's probably some mysterious quantum phenomenon happening there."

"Man, you are a lousy loser," Don said.

Charlie snorted. "Says the guy who's been at the mini-golf course every night this week."

Don shrugged. "Good thing we're not usually skilled in the same things."

"I do math and you shoot guns?"

"And never the twain shall compete."

Charlie groaned.

Don leaned back in his chair. "I expect to find some good quality beer next time I come over. No cheapie beer."

"Okay, light beer."

"No way!" Don said. "Might as well drink water! Gotta be at least 5 alcohol."

Charlie grinned and pointed at the empty beer bottles next to Don. "What percentage alcohol are you?"

"Sounds like math," Don said. "Your area."

"Let's see," Charlie said, "Assume a body weight—no, body composition would be more relevant, so assume …"

With a smile, Don tuned Charlie out and tossed his blue golf ball into the air.


	19. Rumor Mill

**Rumor mill—**

No one in the Los Angeles FBI office knew where the rumors had started. They seemed, like most rumors, to come from multiple directions. The first rumor was that Charlie was gay. Many who heard this said, "I knew that," though they hadn't thought it before. Charlie was the Whiz-kid, the Boy Genius, the Math Prof. Charlie seemed sexless – in the way you'd never wonder about your baby brother's sexuality or the sexual orientation of your computer.

It was the second rumor that got the bullpen buzzing. It seemed – so the rumor went – that Charlie was involved with someone in the office.

Ever the opportunist, Jackson set up a betting pool as to who the other person was. Good odds were on Sinclair, even though he dated women, because he'd known Charlie the longest and sometimes hung out at the Eppes house. For those who didn't believe Rumor #1, good odds were placed on Reeves, who seemed to like smart guys. Even though they'd been kidnapped together, Granger was rated as long odds, since the idea was so preposterous. Average odds were on Santos (who often worked with Charlie), "Someone else" and "No one." One joker even tried to bet on Don, but was quickly thrown out.

Other rumors were passed around – Charlie was married, Charlie had a harem of math groupies, Charlie used to be a girl, Charlie taught his classes in a dress, Charlie and Don had quarreled over a woman so Charlie gave up all females, Charlie was part of a CalSci psychology experiment that developed genius but also sexual deviance. People generally dismissed these rumors, but continued to spread them.

For all the rumors swirling about, one thing was certain. The next time Charlie came into the office, all eyes were going to be on him.


	20. Rumor Mill 2: Grist for the Mill

**Grist for the mill—**

Charlie leaned against the back wall of the elevator and tried to gather his courage. This was worse than the time his miscalculation had gotten Don shot, worse than when someone had shot up the office while he was there. Too soon, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open to the FBI office.

Taking a deep breath, Charlie stepped out of the doors. He walked slowly toward the desks, searching the room for Don. He met the interested gazes of other people and felt himself flush. His eyes quickly dropped to the floor in front of his feet and he navigated through the room by memory, mumbling apologies when he bumped someone. A pool of silence spread out around him as he walked, like a sort of virus which passed from person to person as each one noticed Charlie's presence. Colby hadn't been kidding when he'd warned Charlie about next time he came to the office … It had been hard for Charlie to believe that everyone here didn't have more important things to worry about than his love life, but apparently they didn't.

Charlie glanced up and found himself a few feet from Don's desk. Congratulating himself on his memory, he looked around for Don. All he saw were people he knew vaguely - other FBI agents and office staff and technicians, and they were all watching him.

His face grew hotter, no doubt in the middle of the red spectrum by now, and Charlie looked frantically for one of his core team. He spotted them in the conference room and dashed across the office to the room.

He darted into the room and shut the door behind him. It was a pointless thing to do since the room's walls were all glass, but it gave him some sense of safety.

The people in the room looked up in surprise. One glance at Charlie's panicked face and another at the watching bullpen, and each one of his team grinned at him.

"Feeling a little conspicuous?" Megan laughed.

"Very," Charlie groaned.

David, Colby and Don joined Megan in laughter.

"You're gonna have to give them what they want …" Don said with undisguised glee.

"You betcha," David agreed.

"You don't have to enjoy this so much," Charlie grumbled.

"Oh yes, I do," Don responded.

"I'm afraid he does," Colby said with an exaggerated sigh. "There's nothing he likes better than embarrassing his genius brother."

"Humph," Charlie said, glancing behind him to see that, yes, everyone was still watching.

"How do you want to play this?" Colby said, looking more serious. And anxious.

Charlie frowned at Colby, realizing suddenly that while Charlie might be embarrassed now, Colby had been forced to live with the rumors for days. He could have simply told his co-workers that he was Charlie's boyfriend but he hadn't wanted to push Charlie. Charlie was impressed that Colby had managed to keep their secret. Charlie would have blurted it all out at the first sign of pressure. He'd only kept the secret for as long as he did since no one had suspected.

It had only been two days since Charlie'd told his father about him and Colby. Alan had turned out to already know, but Charlie had learned that only after a day-long stomach ache, partially caused by a nerve-induced lemon meringue pie binge. Now he was going to have to tell the entire office, and therefore the entire world. He held onto the glass door like a shield against the world.

Charlie's abrupt arrival had obviously interrupted Don writing on the whiteboard while his team sat in chairs nearby. Now Don was leaning against the whiteboard, still smiling, but with understanding and support versus amusement. David gave him a firm nod. Megan jerked her head slightly toward Colby several times, nodded and smiled encouragement.

Charlie met Colby's eyes. Charlie was beginning to be able to read Colby like he'd never been able to read anyone. It was both comforting and frightening to sometimes be able to look into those green eyes and know exactly what Colby was thinking. It wasn't like Colby was an open book, it was just a connection between him and Charlie. It was just love.

At the moment, Charlie could see that Colby was worried about how Charlie was going to react to the office's interest. He was afraid that Charlie would just turn and bolt. Colby wanted to shout his relationship to the world, but he was willing to hide for as long as Charlie needed. This wasn't just Charlie's "coming out", but Colby's as well. It shamed Charlie that Colby was willing to put his career on the line for Charlie, go against a lifetime's worth of resistance to his sexual orientation, just so he could openly be with Charlie.

Charlie smiled, let go of the door and strode across the room, straight toward Colby. Colby started to stand up, but Charlie pushed him gently back into the chair and, without a pause, climbed into his lap. He took Colby's astonished face between his hands and crushed his mouth to Colby's.

A startled din exploded in the bullpen outside and the others in the room began to laugh with delight.

Colby jerked away and stared up at Charlie, his green eyes wide. Then he pulled Charlie's lips back down and wrapped his arms around him, kissing him with relieved abandon.

After a long kiss which heated up all parts of Charlie's anatomy, Charlie pulled back. He grinned down at Colby. "I think that should set some rumors to rest."

"Hell, yeah," Colby said breathlessly.

Charlie wondered if he had the same goofy grin on his face that Colby did. _Probably … _"Hey, Don, Colby needs the rest of the day off."

"He gets an hour for lunch," Don said with a laugh.

"Make that a two hour lunch," Charlie said, "and I'll help you on that problem you called me about."

"Blackmail, Chuck?" Don said cheerfully. "Two hours, but no more."

"You got it, boss," Colby said and reached up to pull Charlie down for another kiss.

"Out, out!" Megan said, chuckling.

"Yeah," David said. "Be kind to us single guys!"

Charlie fended off Colby's kiss and looked over at the rest of his team. "Thanks, guys, for … you know … understanding."

Megan and David nodded and smiled.

Don grinned and pushed himself away from the whiteboard. "Now, I gotta go claim my money from Jackson."

Everyone stared at him.

"Hey," Don said with an impish grin, "No one said I couldn't bet in the pool!"


	21. Charlie's Birthday Present

**Charlie's Birthday Present—**

Colby asked Larry, "What should I get Charlie for his birthday?"

Larry steepled his fingers. "What message do you wish to send?"

"What do you mean?"

"All gifts transmit messages about the sender and receiver, their relationship, monetary status, social expectations …"

"I just want to get him something he'll like."

"Hmm … A sundial?"

Colby asked Don, "What should I get Charlie for his birthday?"

"He's hard to buy for. What about a beer-of-the-month club?"

Colby asked Alan.

"A book on cooking or home repair? A haircut?"

Colby asked Will.

"A new baseball glove, 'cause his is falling apart."

Colby asked Amita.

"How about an alarm clock? A really annoying one?"

Colby asked David.

"More white-board markers. He's always using up the office's."

Colby asked Megan.

"Some soothing music. He never slows down."

Colby asked Nena.

"A pony!"

Finally, Colby asked Charlie.

"A hug."

Colby didn't wait but gave Charlie a hug immediately. "What's wrong?"

"I hate birthdays," Charlie muttered. "They just mark another year away from being a prodigy, another year out of my prime, another year past flame out."

So Colby got Charlie a blue glass-and-porcelain sundial, a subscription to Local-Brew-of-the-Month Club, a book on the science of cooking, a sturdy baseball mitt, an extra-loud alarm clock, an economy pack of whiteboard markers, 'Mozart for Relaxation,' and pony pajamas.

He also got a cloth-bound copy of _A Mathematician's Apology_, a 1940 essay on the beauty of mathematics, but also where the 62-year-old author admitted he might finally be past his prime. Inside the cover, he tucked an article on a study from U.C. Davis that determined that the sample mean age of mathematicians' best contributions was 38.8. At the bottom of the article, he wrote, "You've got a lot of math years left in you. Love, Cole."


	22. Unexpected Advice

**Unexpected Advice—**

Steadying his gun, Will took a deep breath. Around the corner was a killer and he was going around that corner.

"William Jae-Hyo Stevens!"

Will jerked around to see a small woman with blond curly hair, hands on her hips. "Get back!"

"Why?"

Will was about to explain about the killer but found he was standing in Charlie's garage. The gun in his hand was now a cheese sandwich. He squinted at the woman. _Vaguely familiar._

"Well, I hope I'm familiar!" she said. "You've seen pictures of me."

"Mrs. Eppes?"

"Please," she smiled. "Margaret." Then her face grew stern again. "You were about to walk into a gunfight, young man."

"That was yesterday," Will said. "I didn't get shot."

"But it was close!" Margaret said. "What did you think you were doing, anyway?"

"My job."

"And where would Don be if you got killed?"

"He understands—"

"Like he understood when you got shot in the head? Don almost died with you!"

Will took a drink of the beer that was now in his hand. "That was bad, but we got through it. Being in the line of fire comes with my job."

"Then maybe you should quit your job."

Will stiffened. "Because it's dangerous? Pardon me, Ma'am, but go to hell."

She smiled wryly. "An odd thing to tell a dead person. But I'm just trying to look out for Don."

"You gonna make him quit his job, too?"

"No," Margaret sighed. "But he doesn't have a new career waiting."

"A new _what_?"

"I need you to be around for my new grandchild, too. Everybody's going to have their hands full with that."

"A new grand-_what_?"

"You're a wonderful man," Margaret grinned. "But a little slow."

Will sat up in bed and blinked at the picture on Don's dresser.


	23. Irrational Fears

**Irrational Fears—**

"Why are we out here?" Colby whispered.

"No reason," Charlie whispered back.

"Charlie, we're hiding in the bushes outside your office!"

"Well, um, I thought I saw a rare butterfly."

"A butter—Wait, someone's in your office!" Colby reached for his gun.

"Whoa," Charlie said. "It's just Penfield."

"Penfield?" Colby squinted at him. "As in Marshall Penfield, your nemesis?"

"I wouldn't say _nemesis_ …"

"So why are we hiding?"

"See, well … I've, uh … developed a deep phobia to, um, set theorists from Princeton."

Colby folded his arms and leaned against the building. "I see. You've developed an irrational and unexplainable fear of set theorists."

"From Princeton," Charlie added. "Completely sudden and debilitating."

"Nothing to do with how much he rattled you last time?"

"No ..."

"Or that recent editorial attacking your work in Cognitive Emergence as 'Fluffy Math'?"

"It's not even published yet and he's already criticizing it!"

"Or that since you've last seen Penfield, you've ditched a girlfriend and gained a boyfriend."

"Nothing to do with that. Though he'd find a way to criticize that, too."

Colby eyed Charlie then moved a little closer to the window. "What is he doing in there, anyway?"

"Don't let him see you!" Charlie hissed urgently.

"I think I can hide from a 'set theorist'. He's snooping around!"

"Probably looking for something he can rip apart in a journal article."

"Maybe, but …" A slow grin spread across Colby's face. "Do you ever keep classified material in your office?"

"Well, I try not to leave it there when I go, but occasionally, yes."

"Your office door was locked?"

"I _think_ …"

A wicked gleam shone in Colby's eyes and he pulled out his gun. "Let's see if I can cause Dr. Penfield to develop a few 'phobias' of his own …"


	24. The Case of the Wounded Head

**The Case of the Wounded Head—**

"Blunt force trauma," Charlie pronounced.

"No doubt," Colby agreed. "The whole side of her head is bashed in."

"Nasty. I could mathematically extrapolate a shape from the indentation."

"I'm guessing a baseball bat."

"Classic blunt instrument," Charlie said wryly. "Are there any wood slivers in the wound? Forensics can do amazing things with wood 'fingerprinting' these days, though you know I hate actual fingerprinting."

"We would just need enough to match it to something owned by a suspect."

Charlie nodded. "Do you think the head wound was the cause of death or the …"

"Decapitation?" Colby completed, then shrugged. "Hard to say. I'd guess they happened close together."

"How do you think her head was … removed? That might help us."

"Hmm," Colby said. "Some kind of saw, perhaps? Or hammer and chisel?"

Charlie grimaced. "I think a saw is more likely."

"True. But you know, it would be hard to both hold the body and saw so maybe we should be looking for a couple of people."

"You may be right." Charlie pondered the mutilated head. "Why do you think the hair was cut off? Some kind of ritual or fetish?"

Colby shook his head. "Then it would be shaved or something. This was just hacked off with scissors. Maybe it was in the way?"

"Of the saw?"

"Yeah. Or maybe they saved the hair as a trophy."

"That would be foolish, since it would tie the murderers directly to the crime."

"Just because it's stupid, doesn't mean criminals won't do it, believe me."

"We haven't even addressed motive–"

"There it is!" Nena said, grabbing the doll's head from Colby. "Now Grandpa and me can play baseball!"

Nena raced away and Colby and Charlie watched her go.

"Kids these days," Charlie said sadly. "Completely numb to violence."


	25. Continuing Mystery of the Severed Head

A/N: Sequel to The Case of the Wounded Head

* * *

**The Continuing Mystery of the Severed Head—**

When Don came around the corner of his family's house, it took a second to process what he saw in the backyard. In fact, it took him several seconds as his mind – capable of evaluating a hostage situation in an instant – stuttered as he tried to figure out why his niece was batting at a small head flying through the air.

Swinging wildly, Nena missed the head with a grunt. She looked up and saw Don before he could speak.

"Uncle Don!" she called. "Come pitch to me. Grandpa's getting tired!"

Don looked across the lawn to see his red-faced father holding a large wicker basket.

Don came over to Nena. "What kind of game is this?"

Nena gave him a disgusted look. "Baseball!"

Leaning over, Don picked up the little head. It was dirty and battered, but looked like it had once belonged to a blond-haired doll. "Why don't you use a baseball?"

"Lost it."

"Or tennis balls?"

"Koota chewed them all."

Don didn't bother to ask why the neighbor's dog didn't have his own tennis balls to chew. "What about that softball I gave you?"

"I cut open the stitches."

"You …"

"To see what was inside."

Don chuckled. He remembered his own first baseball dissection and Charlie had ruined countless toys doing the same thing. Don hefted the doll's head in his hand. It was about the right size but too light and soft.

"But didn't you like your doll?"

Nena shrugged. "I've lots of dolls. Didn't have a baseball."

"Oh …" _Uncle Don can fix that!_ Don turned around and hurried to his car. When he came back, he handed Nena a brand-new baseball.

"Thanks!" She set it on the ground and returned to her doll head.

"But what about the baseball?"

"Bonnie's head goes farther!"


	26. Of Dating, Past and Present

A/N: At Will's first time meeting Charlie and Alan, they and Don tell him about how Charlie wrecked Don's first date.

**Of Dating, Past and Present**

"She was 18-years-old, at least."

"No way, Charlie, she was 14."

"Maybe if you counted in base 14."

"Get this, Will, Charlie _carded_ my date."

"He what?"

"Demanded to see proof of age."

"He thought she was too young?"

"No, he thought she was older than she was claiming to be. Right, Dad?"

"I'm afraid so. You see, Charlie was in this stage of demanding absolute truth of everything."

"Made it hard to watch TV shows when your little brother is always saying, 'Did that _really_ happen?'"

"Which is a hard question for a parent to answer, even when it's the evening news."

"That's true, sir."

"It's Alan, Will."

"But, wait, you guys didn't understand. I'd been reading a lot of anatomy and biology books and I was sure there was no way that she was only 14. I wasn't really aware of things like bell-curves and outlying statistics at the time."

"So Charlie starts harassing Don's date about the size of her 'mammary glands'."

"Whoa, you're kidding!"

"Nope, he's not. And believe me, Debbie had the most _spectacular_ 'mammary glands' in our class."

"I'll bet."

"You should have seen Margaret's – their mother – face when Don brings Debbie over. She said to me, 'I thought she was just a sweet little girl.'"

"She was, Dad."

"I'll bet. All sweet girls wear sweaters that tight."

"In my fantasies, Dad, yeah. So Charlie starts demanding to see her driver's license, which of course she didn't have because she was only 14. She did have a textbook in her bag that proved we were in the same Freshman English class, which was the best proof of age Charlie was going to get."

"Did he accept it?"

"Nope. He starts insisting that she must have been 'held back' in school a few years."

"Oh, no."

"I'm afraid Don's right. This poor girl wasn't only being harassed about her breast size, which I'm sure she was very self-conscious of, but also being told she was an idiot."

"I had to sit on him."

"Sit on him?"

"Yep."

"Debbie left the house crying, Margaret had to go comfort her, and Don and Charlie fought."

"It was hardly a fight. What kind of fight could I have put up? I was a skinny 9-year-old."

"The world's most annoying 9-year-old."

"I doubt that."

"Chuck, you are a total outlying statistic."

"Well, that, actually, is true."

"See, you're still campaigning for the position of world's most annoying 9-year-old."

"Ha, ha."

"You let them fight?"

"For a minute, then sent both of them to their rooms."

"Don, did you ever see or date her again?"

"Naw."

"Charlie ruined your chances with her?"

"Yeah, well, it turned out that my chances weren't that good anyway."

"No?"

"And even worse once Mom talked to her and got her all full of 'find someone who likes you for your brains, not your body'."

"Heh, oops!"

"Her and Mom hit it off and did girl stuff a couple of times after that. It was weird."

"The next date that Don brought home was a little stick-figure of a girl. His mother and I figured that Don was trying to make sure such a thing never happened again."

"Actually, Dad, well, um, I started dating Mandy because she was the exact sort of girl that Debbie _looked_ like she was."

"As in …"

"As in when you and Mom weren't around and Don was supposed to be watching me, Mandy would come over and they'd disappear into Don's room and make all these funny sounds."

"Hmm, I'm not sure I wanted to know that after all these years."

"Charlie, you swore on Galileo's grave that you wouldn't tell."

"Cool it, Don. I think the statute of limitations has expired on getting grounded."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that, young man, I'm still your father, both of you."

"What would I be getting in trouble for? I was just an innocent bystander."

"An innocent bystander that your mother and I relied on to tell on your brother. You usually did."

"Actually, I computed it once, and I only reported approximately 73.4 percent of Don's offenses."

"That isn't comforting, Charlie."

"But it does mean that I have 26.6 percent of the dirt still left to use."

"Bring it on, Chuck. What's Dad going to do, ground me?"

"Don't be too cocky, son. There are still things your father can do to you."

"What, cut me out of the massive family fortune?"

"I already own the house, so you're not getting that anyway."

"I'll sell whatever you've got sitting in the garage on an online auction."

"No, you won't, Dad. You'd hate dealing with pricing and posting and shipping and stuff."

"True. Maybe I'll just give them all to Goodwill."

"If I may, sir, suggest something?"

"Feel free, Will."

"Will, I better not regret bringing you …"

"I'm just trying to be helpful."

"No, you're trying to get me into trouble for stuff I did ages ago."

"You're already in trouble for it."

"Hardly. He's not really going to dump my stuff, babe."

"Did you just call Will 'babe'? No way."

"Ignore Chuck, the still annoying 9-year-old. Will, what are you thinking …"

"Yes, Will, what are you thinking that I can do to punish Don, now that he's all grown up and carrying a badge?"

"I know this is drastic, but how about making him buy his own beer?"

"Hey!"


End file.
